Scars
by seriouscaseofthegayface
Summary: -"I felt like I'd met my perfect match..." A brief look into an important moment in the relationship of Dr Sweets and intern Daisy Wick. Swaisy fluff!


**A/N: Hi there! Well, this is my first ever Bones fanfic :O, so please be nice! I'm a HUGE Sweets/Daisy fan (having the exact same personality as everyone's favourite annoying intern!) so I decided to write this. I hope you enjoy it!**

Sweets POV:

"Mmm, I had a _great_ time tonight." Daisy murmured against my lips. "Like, I had _so_ much fun -"

I chuckled slightly, pressing a finger against hers. "Daisy, what have we said about conversing while engaging in romantic activities?"

"Not to do it unless absolutely necessary." she recited, her nose wrinkled in concentration. She was just too cute. I bent to kiss her again, but she drew back.

"Lance, it's late." she said, unlocking her door. Suddenly, she paused and turned to face me, a small smile playing on her face. "Would you like to come in... for coffee?" she asked shyly, playing with her hair.

I nodded eagerly. "I'd love to." Finally, a chance to see inside my girlfriend's house. Tonight had been our fifth date, and I'd never felt so good about a relationship before. Daisy was special. Not just special, she was _perfect_. Cute, intelligent, a fair knowledge of psychology... I felt like I'd met my perfect match. Man. I'd been watching _way_ too much Dr Phil lately (what can I say? He's an inspiration!).

"You wait here." Daisy instructed, pushing me onto a couch. "I'll be right back." she giggled to herself, and skipped out of the room.

I stared at my surroundings. Well, it was..._bright_, certainly. Everything - the walls, curtains, furniture - was a vibrant shade of red, blue, yellow, pink, you name it. Furniture was scattered haphazardly around the room, clothes strewn across the floor, empty glasses lay on every flat surface. And yet, it was almost...refreshing. Someone _lived_ here, someone who didn't hide who they were from the world. Daisy didn't pretend to be someone she wasn't -

"Well, here we go!" Daisy said cheerfully, setting two cups on the coffee table. She lingered, smoothing out the table cloth, giving me an extensive view of her cleavage.

Yup, definitely no pretence here.

Tonight was the night, I knew Daisy had decided on that. I'd be a pretty poor psychologist if I couldn't pick up on the tell-tale signs. Oh, man. What was I going to do?

On the one hand, Daisy was an amazing, attractive girl. We were great together, so why not..._further_ our relationship, so to speak?

On the other, I was scared. Terrified. What if she never wanted to go out with me again? What if -

"Lance, you haven't touched your coffee." Daisy obsered. "Is something wrong?" she laced her fingers through mine, making me even more nervous.

"What? No! I'm fine, never better!" I took a big gulp of coffee to demonstrate, and almost gagged. Daisy hadn't realised that milk needs to be kept _in_ a refridgerator.

Daisy grinned. "I can cheer you up." she pressed her lips against mine, catching me off guard. I tried to pull away, but her arms were around my neck, pulling me closer. And...some brave, defiant part of me didn't_ want_ to pull away.

Finally, we both came up for air. This was my chance. "Daisy, I can't -"

"Please?" she asked, her glorious brown eyes wide. "Lancelot?"

And with that one word, I knew she had won.

--

"Wow." I breathed, hours later. "That was... Wow. I just... Well, wow!"

That pretty much summed it up.

"Mmm." Daisy said, her back facing towards me. I froze.

"What's wrong?" I gently rolled her over to face me. Her face was stiff, unsmiling. The stupid grin I'd been wearing was wiped off my face. She hadn't enjoyed it. She thought I was some inexperienced, young idiot. She never wanted to see me again, of course she didn't. How could I have been so _stupid_? I'd ruined the one relationship I'd ever felt good about. "Daisy, what -"

"I saw them, Lance." she said, spitting out each word.

Okay, that was unexpected. "You saw...what?"

"_Them_." Daisy's eyes flashed dangerously. I stared back at her, clueless. She sighed, and said in a softer voice. "The scars on your back."

I flinched away from her. How had she seen them? Nobody had ever noticed them before...

"I'm no expert in soft tissue wounds, but I know whip marks when I see them." Daisy's voice wasn't scared or disturbed, like I assumed it would be, just very gentle. "I...just don't understand why you couldn't tell me! You're supposed to trust me, you know?"

My face felt hot. "What was I _supposed_ to say, Daisy? 'Hi, I'm Lance, would you like to see the whip scars on my back'? I don't think so!"

Daisy ignored me. "Who did this to you, Lance?" her eyes were wide. I'd never seen her this serious before. "And, why did they do this to you?"

"It's - it's nothing." I mumbled, turning away from her.

"Lance," she put a tentative hand on my shoulder. "You can tell me. I can help -"

"I said, it's nothing!" I snapped, glaring at her. She didn't seem perturbed. Keeping eye contact with me, she held her forearm up so it caught the light. I squinted at it, then drew back in horror. There were thin, jagged pink lines criss-crossing all over her wrist. I wouldn't have noticed them if she hadn't pointed them out to me. Almost invisible, but most definitely there.

"When I was sixteen, I totally hated life." Daisy explained. The words sounded wrong when she said them, like they didn't belong. Like Daisy was too happy, too optimistic to use them. "I didn't fit in at school - people just didn't, like, _get_ me, you know? I had no friends. The girls at school bullied me, the boys would laugh if I even went near them. The only time I felt good was when I was doing _this_." she gestured to her wrist. "But, somehow, I pulled through. I vowed that I wouldn't let them get to me, and they didn't. I turned my life around, stopped messing around with a razor. And...I told myself just to _be_ Daisy, and let the rest fall into place." she smiled shyly, playing with her hair.

I blinked. I couldn't believe I'd never seen this before. The Daisy I knew (or thought I knew) was simply one tiny facet of the _real _Daisy. The Daisy who'd had a rough life, felt alienated, like I had. The Daisy who, even though she might be excellent at concealing it, was still hurting inside. Like me.

She'd shared so much with me... I knew I had to return the gesture. Trembling slightly, I took a deep breath. "My parents -"

Daisy pressed a finger to my lips. "You don't need to force yourself to talk about it, Lance."

"But, I -"

She shook her head insistently. "You can talk about it when you're ready. Just, tell me about stuff like this in future, okay, baby? I wouldn't want to ruin this relationship over something as stupid as that." her proper smile was back, practically blinding.

"Wait, you're not dumping me?" I asked, not daring to believe it.

Daisy giggled. "Why would I dump you? You're funny, and sweet, and cute," she kissed my forehead, sending me reeling. "And you're _great_ in bed!" she kissed me again, before drawing back to smirk at me. "Lancelot."

Man, did she _have_ to keep saying that? I grabbed her, pressing her to me. "How much time do we have before work?" I asked breathlessly.

Daisy glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "Eleven point five minutes." she smirked.

I grinned back. "Well, then, I propose that...we engage in furthering our intimate relations, so that -"

"You're not very good at this, are you?" Daisy giggled.

I shook my head. "No, not at all." She knew me already.

"Well, let me do the talking. I've heard I'm good at it!" she winked, making me laugh. Daisy certainly _was_ a good talker.

And I had totally fallen for her. And, maybe she was the one who would finally cause my scars to heal.

**A/N: Ta dah! Loved it? Hated it? Let me know! I adore reviews :)**

**- Ellie :D**


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